


Floating in A Most Peculiar Way

by MariaLee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dismemberment, Growing Up Together, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaLee/pseuds/MariaLee
Summary: In the Jedi Order attachment is strictly forbidden. Yet, Revan and Malak spend their lives orbiting each other, their attachment growing stronger as the years pass. Friends, rivals, lovers, and enemies, they cannot stop being inexorably pulled towards one another. Nor do they want to.Mostly canon-compliant for the original KOTOR game.





	Floating in A Most Peculiar Way

They were little more than children the first time they were caught in each other’s orbits. Alek, still  _ Squint _ to his peers, was thirteen and Revan, not yet  _ Revan _ but already a burgeoning prodigy of the Jedi Order, was less than a year older. They were supposed to be meditating in the sacred grove just beyond the temple on Dantooine, but the noonday rays of the summer sun were beating down hot and bright. Sweat beaded along their brows and trickled down their backs despite the dappled shade that filtered through the tall branches of the blba trees. The longer they tried to sit still, to focus on  _ peace _ and  _ tranquility _ , the more they squirmed and shifted uncomfortably, bumping knobby knees and gangly elbows as they bit back secretive giggles.

Eventually they gave up all pretense of meditation and flopped back on the sun-warmed grass, shedding their cloaks and loosening the belts of their tunics so that the faint breeze could ruffle the fabric of their clothing and offer relief to their sticky skin. Alek’s jet-black hair was stuck to his forehead, and Revan reached over to brush a clump of sweaty strands away from his friend’s eyes. It was an impulsive gesture, but something that he’d been wanting to do for months now, ever since the warmth of spring had shifted into the blazing heat of a Dantooine summer and the other boy’s locks had grown long enough to obscure his vision. Even so, Revan didn’t expect for his limbs to suddenly go lax and loose, all of his attention instantly narrowing down to the realization of just how clear and  _ blue _ his companion’s eyes were.

“What?” Alek asked, lips quirking into a frown as he rapidly pushed himself up on his elbows. The movement was faster than either of them expected and their noses bumped, faces prickling with the sudden contact as their mutual surprise alighted in the Force.

Revan blinked but stood his ground. “Nothing,” he muttered, tone lacking the usual bravado it had developed in his teenage years. His gaze darted down to the grass and then back up, front teeth worrying his bottom lip. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” Brow furrowing curiously, Alek studied his friend for a moment as he reached out a hand and placed it on the other boy’s shoulder. He could feel the warmth of the sun caught in the fabric of the other boy’s tunic and the cloying heat of damp skin. “Are you alright? You’re acting kinda weird.”

“No, I’m not!” The contrary response came naturally to Revan, another skill honed from pubescent petulance. But he could feel the lie shimmering in the Force around him, a cold shadow amidst the natural brightness that he exuded.

A slow smirk spread across Alek’s face as he tightened his grip on the other boy’s shoulder and gave it a playful shake. “Yes, you are," he responded because he knew this game, this call-and-response of denials and half-truths born of teenage arrogance and lifelong camaraderie. But he could taste the bite of something new and different in this challenge.

“I’m not!” Revan lied again, glaring at his friend in an effort not to get lost in those blue,  _ blue  _ eyes or that playful smile. The impulse to wipe it away with a kiss seized his heart, and he distantly recalled a voice that sounded suspiciously like Master Vrook’s reminding him  _ ‘there is no emotion…’ _

_ ‘Krif that.’ _ Leaning forward, the older boy embraced the rush of sensations that flooded his mind as he pressed his lips against Alek’s, the gesture clumsy with inexperience and sticky with sweat. But amidst the awkwardness was the pleasant pressure of skin-on-skin, and the plush feeling of his friend’s mouth growing lax and  _ yielding _ beneath his. The kiss only lasted an instant, and when he pulled away Revan was suddenly flooded with embarrassment. His gaze shifted to the ground and he clenched his jaw in preparation for the rejection that he could feel coming, his voice defensive as he stammered, “I… I just…”

A clammy palm reached out and grasped Revan gracelessly by the chin, the hand surprisingly large thanks to the mid-spring growth spurt that put Alek half a head taller and that the older boy certainly wasn’t jealous of. But at that moment he couldn’t muster up anything but mortification as his best friend stared at him, jaw slack and expression befuddled as confusion radiated through the Force around him. “Did you just…?”

Anger, the type that he definitely wasn’t supposed to feel, simmered cold and vicious around Revan as he scrambled to his feet in a rush of gangly limbs and heated embarrassment.  _ ‘This is why Jedi don’t form attachments.’ _ He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared off into the distance and chided himself,  _ ‘You’re a kriffing idiot!’ _ A drop of coppery blood touched his tongue and he spat out, “It was stupid! I didn’t mean…”

But the rest of his words died on his lips, further embarrassed by the dishonesty coloring everything he said.

Alek leaped upright with a touch more grace and hurried to his friend's side, longer legs making it easy to close the distance. "Wait!" he shouted, despite being only centimeters away. "It wasn't…"

“You don’t have to be  _ nice _ about it!" Revan snarled as he whirled to face the other boy, his lips pulling into a feral grimace as all of the self-doubts that had been building for months suddenly poured forth. "You don't have to  _ pretend _ to understand or to  _ like _ it. Hells, you don’t even have to like  _ me _ !”

“Oh  _ Force _ ,” Alek swore, using his superior height to reach out and clasp his companion by the cheeks, forcing the other teen to meet his gaze. “Do you  _ ever _ shut up?” A single breath passed between them before he leaned down and firmly silenced Revan with a second kiss, this one no more graceful or elegant than the first. It was nothing but the inexperienced press of lips interspersed with the sharp bite of teeth, but in its own way it was  _ perfect _ and the Force flared bright and sure around them.

A few seconds later the pair parted, breathless. Revan’s dark eyes were wide with surprise, his mouth opening and closing ineffectively as he, for once, found himself at a loss for words.

Filling in for his friend’s temporary muteness, Alek smiled sheepishly as he reassured the other boy, “Idiot. I’ve  _ always _ liked you.”

“Oh,” Revan finally managed to exhale, and the look of sheer exhilaration that crossed his features was so sweet that Alek had to kiss him again, this time more smoothly and just a hint more seductively.

Minutes later they were once again sprawled beside each other, thighs pressed together despite the summer heat. Cautiously they whispered reminders that most of the Masters believed attachment and affection were the paths to the dark side. The sting of Exar Kun’s betrayal was still fresh in the minds of the Council and many blamed unrestrained passion for his fall. Despite this, both boys murmured that they didn't kriffing  _ care _ what the Council thought. But they also swore that this was  _ their  _ secret; that they would keep quiet about the strange orbit that they’d been inexplicably drifting towards since the day they met.

\+   +   +

Alek was eighteen when he was sent on a mission to a dusty little planet along the Outer Rim with Master Zhar Lestin and the Padawan who would one day be known as Revan. The pair had floated in and out of each other’s orbits for years, always friends and sometimes secretly more than that. But they were also rivals, still trying to find their own places in the galaxy as anything other than  _ Squint _ and the Order’s favorite prodigy who all of the Masters were enamored and exasperated with in turn.

They were supposed to be doing something  _ diplomatic _ because the Council felt that even Guardians in training needed practice using words to solve disputes, but in the end, two teenage boys who were more bluster and hormones than patience and wisdom were of little actual assistance. Eventually, even Master Lestin’s tolerance ran thin and he sent them off to ‘gather information,’ leaving them with a worn smile, a list of names, and a stern warning not to cause any unnecessary trouble. Despite their half-hearted investigation, most of their leads ran dry by early evening. The teens soon found themselves bored as they strode purposefully through the seedier part of what passed for a city, dust clinging to their robes and impatience roiling just beneath their skin.

So, when a local group of underworld thugs tried to corner the pair in an alleyway demanding to know what a couple of  _ children _ were doing sticking their noses in  _ adult _ business, they felt little remorse as they shared twin grins of mischief and ignited their lightsabers in matching blurs of blue heat.

"Just like in the training room, huh?" Alek asked with a laugh, his ‘saber arcing in a deadly swing around his lithe body. He had continued to outpace his friend in growth and now stood a head taller. But that was of little consequence compared to the raw  _ power _ that Revan wielded.

With a thrust of his arm, the brown-haired teen froze two thugs in place with the Force as a wry smile twisted his lips. “You seem to remember the training ring a little  _ differently _ ,” he taunted.

Kicking out one long leg, Alek knocked an opponent into the nearby wall, knocking the wind from the Weequay’s lungs. “I seem to remember laying you flat on your back quite a bit,” he remarked flippantly, twirling his lightsaber for effect.

Revan startled at the comment, back going rigid and causing him to take a punch to the right side of his jaw. It was enough to snap him back to reality and he growled as he struck at his assailant, running the Rodian through with the burning plasma of his blade. “Ha!” he snapped defiantly. “I don’t remember it like that at all.”

“Sure you don’t,” Alek replied with a chuckle before turning his full attention back to the battle at hand. Though the pair was outnumbered three-to-one it was an easy fight and all of their attackers were soon dead or wounded, the survivors looking appropriately chagrined for having underestimated a pair of teenagers in a shady alleyway.

It was Alek’s job to lift up the leader of the group and slam him into the nearest wall, the teen’s increasing bulk adding an air of menace to his presence. But it was Revan who plied out information with clever words and pleasant assurances, his honeyed tongue only sweetened by the fact that his high cheekbones had yet to cut through all of the baby-roundness of his face. With their combined skill it was easy enough to extract the information they were sent to acquire, and within the hour they had commed Master Lestin with a fresh series of leads that were sure to keep him busy well into the morning.

Their work for the day complete, the teens made their way back through the city at a slow pace, still running high on adrenaline as they traded exaggerated details from their earlier fight. Of course, it was Revan who leveled his friend with a scowl as he proclaimed, “And by the way, I can’t remember  _ one time _ that you had me flat on my back!”

"Well, I definitely can!" Alek retorted, full of teenage bravado. "In fact, it looked a little something like this…" Jerking out a foot he hooked it around his companion's ankle, intending to throw the other teen off balance and onto the ground. But Revan was faster than anticipated and managed to partially counter the attack, tangling their legs and unbalancing both their centers of gravity. In a sprawl of limbs, they tumbled into the nearest wall, Revan’s back pressed against the duracrete surface as Alek collided with his chest.

“Ooof!” the taller teen wheezed eloquently, bracing part of his weight against his forearm as the rest of him collided gracelessly with his companion. He grinned down at the other teen, appreciating his superior height for a moment and pressing closer just for good measure. He might as well have  _ something _ to lord over the Order’s favorite prodigy. But as he leaned against Revan he felt a distinct  _ hardness _ dig into his thigh, and when he looked down at his friend he noted the bright flush of crimson coloring the other teen’s fair cheeks. Embarrassment flooded hot and bright through the Force, something that Alek wasn’t even aware Revan could still feel. It had always seemed like shame and mortification dissolved before they actually hit his companion, burned to cinders by the sheer brightness of his presence.

And this? It was one of the least embarrassing things to experience post-combat. He'd learned a couple of years back that hormones, danger, and adrenalin did weird things to the body… and that it could sometimes lead to even more fun. But Revan, for all of his brilliance, had apparently not gotten the message and was currently attempting to hide his growing arousal by squirming away and making the problem increasingly worse.

“Hey,” Alek whispered, backing up a step but remaining less than an arm’s length away. “What’s the matter?”

Blushing harder, Revan gritted his teeth as he hissed, “Oh, shut the hells up!”

“What, this?” Alek grinned mischievously as he canted his hips forward and rolled them slightly, drawing a soft gasp from his friend. “This isn’t a  _ problem. _ ”

“...Oh.  _ Oh. _ ” The words were little more than whispers as Revan leaned forward hungrily, body practically burning beneath his robes as he bit back another gasp, and then a sigh. “So… so this is  _ alright _ ?”

The question was so meek and unexpectedly innocent that Alek couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and capture Revan’s mouth with his own, tongue flicking out to deepen the kiss as he pressed forward and rolled his hips again. The groan that this earned sent a wave of pleasure coursing through his body, and he could feel the way that it bled out into the Force. The kiss felt unexpectedly new after the time that the pair had spent apart in recent months, Revan engrossed in a new series of studies on Coruscant and Alek having busied himself studying a number of the other Padawans on Dantooine.

The latter part of that thought must have traveled through the Force because Revan suddenly jerked back, a scowl creasing his brow and hurt shining in his dark eyes. “Stop,” he commanded, voice holding just a hint of the authority that it would one day possess.

More shocked than anything Alek drew back, worry etched across his features as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Placing his palms on his friend’s chest Revan pushed away, shaking his head. “I’m not just a  _ conquest _ ,” he warned with a snarl. “You don’t get to mark me off your list and then move on…”

“That’s… is that what you think?” Insult bloomed around Alek, genuine and raw. “The others? That was  _ mutual _ . We were having  _ fun _ .”

“Fun?” The word was practically spat out.

Alek swallowed hard, an unexpected panic rising in his gut as his friend twisted away from his grasp. “It was all… No attachments, right? That’s the rule!”

“...No attachments.” Turning his back, Revan stared ahead with cold indifference, even as his frustration flowed cold and bright around him.

Realization crashed into Alek like a speeder. Because, no matter what they did, there had  _ always _ been attachment between them. They may have tried to hide it in secretive childhood whispers and teenage rivalries, but they were continuously caught in each other’s orbits, drawn to each other and ensnared in a web of emotions that they were forbidden from experiencing. In defiance of the Masters and their very Order that emotion was always there, simmering just beneath the surface of their every interaction. They were inescapably attached, the situation delightfully messy in ways that would make the Council lecture for hours if they only knew.

Making no effort to release his emotions, Alek reached out and gasped Revan’s shoulder with the same firm grasp that he had used so many years ago, just after their first kiss. The touch was startling familiar to them both and he felt his friend jolt slightly at the contact, though he didn’t pull away. “No attachments to anyone but  _ you _ ,” the taller teen clarified, feeling a bit like a cliche holodrama as he spoke. But it was all true, every last word.

Revan turned around slowly, eyes downcast for a moment as he considered this confession. Impulsively he opened his mouth to refute the claim but there was little he could say with everything was laid out before him, emotions pure and unadulterated in the Force. Instead, he reached out a tendril of awareness, probing his friend's words for falsehoods before slowly raising his gaze, hope dancing across his features. Swallowing the last of his doubt he stood awkwardly on his tiptoes and pressed his lips to Alek's, the kiss made graceless by sheer desperation.

Alek seized the smaller teen and drew him closer, possessiveness and  _ want _ sending a bolt of arousal straight through him as their bodies melted together. Revan growled low and deep in his throat, smiling into the kiss as it deepened, his tongue snaking into his companion’s mouth to lick and explore hungrily. It was several long moments before he reluctantly drew away, his normally glib voice suddenly heavy with arousal. “We should… get somewhere else.”

At first, all Alek could do was nod, his brain addled with lust. He pushed through the sensation enough to mutter, "The ship? Master Lestin is using the room we rented as a base..."

“Yes,” Revan interrupted. “The ship. Let’s get to the kriffing ship already!”

Even into adulthood, neither of them were quite sure how they managed to make it to the port, board their spacecraft, and lock the door before collapsing into the bunk. Once safely alone they shed their clothing as fast as their hands could manage, crowding onto the narrow bed with peals of laughter. Luckily, their information was good and Master Lestin was busy until the next morning, giving them all night to learn each other's bodies.

\+   +   +

They were too young to be commanders in the Republic army. Too young to have the expectations of the entire Republic resting on their shoulders and the responsibility for dozens of battles spread out before them, the lives of thousands of soldiers precariously balanced on their every decision. And yet there they were, datapads spread across the desk in Revan’s small quarters as the comm system hummed with a constant influx of victories and death tolls.

This particular day had brought heavy losses.

“It was a perfect feint,” Malak stated, his armor dented and worn from many battles and his new name a curse on Mandalorian lips.

“I know,” Revan agreed hollowly, though it was hard to tell his actual tone thanks to the modulator in his mask. “One move, out of a dozen. A hundred lives lost to save a thousand.”

And of  _ course _ he knew. The entire strategy was Revan’s creation, the plan laid carefully out before them in dozens of coded messages across multiple datapads. According to the Republic, he was a genius, solely responsible for turning the tides of war and giving them  _ hope _ . To Malak he had always been brilliant, a shining point of light within the Force that was finally glowing brightly enough for everyone else to notice.

“We’re making a difference.” Jaw set firmly Malak glanced towards the comms, letting the buzz of information wash over him. “The Mandalorians are retreating from three occupied planets. Our troops have routed at least one of their major bases and raided five of their supply lines in the last two weeks.”

Revan was listening in the same way that he seemed to hear everything of late, bits and bytes of data that he processed judiciously while seemingly removed from any emotional impact. The perfect Jedi general. “We lost two men for every Mandalorian that fell in these last four skirmishes. The losses in the last major battle were almost three to one.” He plucked a datapad off the desk, eyes studying it through the visor of his mask. “But we still outnumber them five to one, and our allies on worlds with critical resources are almost double that.”

“This is a war we can win,” Malak agreed, keeping his voice even despite the pinch of anxiety rising in his chest.  _ ‘We can win,’ _ he thought to himself.  _ ‘But it will be close.’ _

That musing rippled through the Force and Revan’s body straightened an iota, the spaulders of his chest plate creaking softly as his muscles tensed. “We  _ will _ win,” he stated in his coldly modulated manner. “Strategic sacrifice is necessary to achieve victory. If we have to abandon two planets to fortify a third against attack, so be it. And if we have to sacrifice entire squadrons to advance the front line… the soldiers know what they signed up for.”

The words were clipped as Revan’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the edges of his pad, the soft squeak of his gloves the only indication that his hand was tensing. Though his face was unreadable, Malak could recognize the audible strain that still managed to filter through the mask. Not even a tactical mastermind was immune to the stress of war. And no amount of callous logic would change the fact that Revan was  _ so incredibly  _ Force-sensitive, more with each passing year. Malak was keenly aware that the other man could feel each death that echoed in the Force, with each sacrificed life reverberating down to his very core.

The mere fact that Revan was audibly disturbed was a bad sign. He was wound too tight, a razor-thin wire ready to snap at any moment.

A fall waiting to happen.

It was almost instinctual for Malak to carefully approach his companion, hands folded neatly behind his back as he moved with graceful, deliberate strides. “Revan?” he said softly, his voice seeming to echo in the eerie quiet that had overtaken the room. Drawing a slow breath, he reached out and placed a tentative palm on the other man’s shoulder, his fingertips barely brushing the protective armor. “Revan…”

“What we’re doing is  _ right _ , Alek. The Mandalorians  _ must _ be stopped before they destroy the galaxy.” A burst of pure, unadulterated passion flared in the Force, colder and harsher than any Jedi should have been capable of producing.

“I know,” was all Malak said as he pressed his hand more firmly against his friend’s shoulder. He could feel the fine tremors passing through the flesh beneath, muscles coiled and tight beneath the strain of responsibility.

Anger seethed around Revan now, more frigid than anything he had expressed before the war. His emotions had always run closer to the surface than the Order preferred, but now they were coursing freely through him without restraint. “The Council and the Masters are  _ wrong _ . They’re fools to believe that waiting for the true threat to reveal itself will leave them with anything but dust and corpses.”

Malak nodded slowly, shifting position until he was facing the other man. The sheer power of the rage flowing through the room sent a chill down his spine, but he refused to shudder. Instead, he peered down at his oldest friend, keeping his expression neutral as he ran his hand up the smooth curve of Revan’s neck, skin barely ghosting over the thick material of the hooded black cloak. “I  _ know _ ,” he repeated.

"It might take fifty thousand more lives before this war is won. A hundred more feints and deceptions that span entire planets." Revan drew a sharp breath, the sound rasping and harsh through the modulator. "I'll sacrifice a dozen worlds if it means that we have something left to  _ save _ .”

Gently brushing his knuckles over the tarnished planes of the mask, Malak merely nodded again, his voice earnest as he mumbled, “Revan,  _ I know. _ ” His fingers trailed downward, tracing the thick seam between metal and skin as he began to pry the protective covering away from his friend’s face.

For a second Revan balked at the gesture, body tensing further until every fiber nearly vibrated from the anxiety that raced through him. But a moment later all of the tightness seemed to leach out of his muscles as Malak persisted in sliding the mask from his face, carefully cradling it in his palms for a moment as his blue,  _ blue _ eyes stared down at the bared visage of the Republic’s greatest hope. Without something to temper his words Revan was hesitant to speak, and when he did his tone was thin and reedy. “I’m doing the  _ right _ thing.”

Pausing to place the mask on the desk, Malak never broke eye contact as he watched his friend's features try and remain impassive. Though something about Revan's high cheekbones and straight nose gave him a noble air, his face still seemed too  _ young _ and too  _ fragile  _ to belong to the scourge of the Mandalorians. Maybe it was his eyes, large and dark and somehow  _ innocent _ despite the black circles of exhaustion that stained the delicate skin beneath them. Without another word, Malak cupped Revan's cheeks before leaning down and pressing a hard kiss between them.

It was a moment before Revan’s mouth yielded to the pressure, his lips slowly parting as the kiss grew rougher and more demanding. Yet his body remained on alert, his arms moving to wrap around Malak’s shoulders more out of reflex than any real desire. Still, he gasped sweetly as calloused hands pushed down his hood and raked through his hair before quickly traveling lower to grasp his sides.

“Revan,” Malak ordered softly as he broke the kiss, “ _ Relax _ .”

“I… I can’t.”

“Just for an hour.” Reclaiming the other man’s lips, Malak bit down with surprising pressure as his hands gripped his companion’s waist almost hard enough to bruise. “Let me help you.”

Revan stiffened once more before finally surrendering, the rest of the pent-up tension gradually seeping out of his muscles and leaving him almost boneless as Malak efficiently stripped off their clothing with practiced ease. Metal clattered against the durasteel floor as armor was peeled away, robes fluttering open with careless elegance to bare pale, smooth skin.

Silently, Malak wondered how many people remembered that, beneath his protective layers, Revan was still flesh and blood.

As they stumbled their way to the narrow ship bunk, Malak ran his calloused palms along the myriad of scars that marred Revan, each one carved into his flesh with blaster bolts and well-honed beskad. Most had faded into jagged, pearly-white lines of raised tissue, though a few were still puckered and pink as they healed. He ran his tongue over a particularly nasty series of marks that crested over the sharp point of his friend’s hip, left by the well-placed shots of a repeating rifle. Revan whined as a wet stripe was traced over the old wound before trailing further downward to lick along the unmarked skin of his inner thigh. The sound became a hiss as teeth nipped the sensitive area, teasing him with pleasures yet to come. He reached down, one hand smoothing over Malak’s hairless scalp, his finger idly tracing the pale blue tattoos.

“Force!” Revan gasped as Malak’s mouth continued to explore him, making him lose his last shreds of control as desire temporarily replaced thoughts of war and death.

Though the thick haze of arousal something else lingered between them. Words that by some unspoken agreement were always left unsaid, but that still radiated through the Force around them. Emotion that was  _ forbidden _ , but that they had clung to since childhood.

It wasn’t until later, when they were lying awkwardly together in a bed that was hardly big enough to hold one grown Human, that Revan looked over at his friend and whispered, “Alek, I lo…”

Before he could finish the confession, Malak silenced him with a searing kiss and then quietly murmured back, “ _ I know _ .”

\+   +   +

It’s hard to say how old they were when they finally fell. It was such a gradual thing, a creeping coldness that slowly overtook them until every emotion was twisted into something frigid, sharp, and utterly  _ vicious _ .

They may not have realized that it happened until the moment that Revan, already crowned Dark Lord of the Sith, was staring at his apprentice through the protective visor of his mask, teeth bared in a feral snarl and mind clouded with raw, primal fury. The hilt of his lightsaber rested in his palm, summoned from his belt a moment earlier. The blood-red blade cast an ominous glow over the dim inner chamber of the Star Forge. “ _ What _ did you say?” he demanded calmly, the evenness of his tone doing nothing to disguise the murderous rage building in the Force around him.

“I said that you’re going  _ soft _ ,” Malak taunted back, cloudy gray eyes narrowing into thin slits. “You’re  _ weak _ , Revan, unfit to lead us.”

Beneath his mask, Revan smirked. "Because I'm not foolish enough to destroy valuable resources just to prove my might?" His head canted to the side almost curiously as he continued to watch his apprentice. "Because I don't want to push the Forge to its limits and depend on it as our sole supplier of resources? Because I'm smart enough to look to the  _ future _ rather than being a short-sighted  _ fool _ ?”

Malak growled as he straightened to his full, imposing height. “You’re unfit to lead because you lack imagination.”

“Last I checked,” Revan mocked, “Wisdom and foresight are far more useful than your particular brand of  _ imagination _ .”

“Funny,” Malak retorted with a haughty chuckle. “Those sound suspiciously like the words of a  _ Jedi _ .”

There was no warning as Revan struck, not even a ripple through the Force as he dove through the air in a graceful flip, landing centimeters away from his apprentice and slicing at the other man with a powerful swing of his lightsaber. It was only years of battle-honed instinct that enabled Malak to leap out of the way in time to avoid the majority of the attack and even then, a thin burn mark still marred the front of his armor. He roared in outrage as he called his own weapon into his hand, igniting it with a  _ snap-hiss _ as he charged at his master.

The air filled with heat as the pair of Sith clashed, their lightsabers meeting with rapid hums of energy and sparks of plasma. Malak was taller and stronger, his muscles toned and hardened into a looming physique that had intimidated Republic soldiers and Mandalorians alike. He took advantage of his longer reach with a custom ‘saber whose blade extended beyond the normal range. Despite these advantages, he struggled to hold back Revan who fought like battle incarnate, every slash and thrust infused with the raw power of the Force.

As Malak parried a pair of blows aimed for his abdomen he panted softly as he backed up, forced to fight defensively. His lightsaber hissed as he wielded it with both hands, raising it above his head to block a diving chop made as Revan twirled effortlessly through the air. He managed to avoid the slash that would have cut his skull open with limited effort, momentarily driving his master back. But Revan used the momentum of the blocked attack to soar backward before slinking low and darting in for a lightning-quick blow to his opponent's knees. The strike was glancing, almost playful as it cut into one of Malak's kneecaps, cutting through the thin layer of armor and burning away the flesh beneath.

Malak howled in pain and anger, shifting his body to protect his injured leg as he struck out at Revan with renewed vigor. The agony flooded through his system and he embraced it, absorbing the chilled sensation and using it to fuel his rage. Three or four of his flurried blows managed to land on his adversary, though most only slashed through the material of his cloak or glance off his armor. One or two struck flesh and Malak felt a momentary thrill of triumph, only for the confidence to fade when he realized that the wounds were doing nothing to slow his master down.

That was the moment that Malak realized the gravity of Revan’s prior achievements. Though shorter than average, the Dark Lord had simultaneously fought back multiple larger opponents on the battlefield. He was also the man who had taken down Mandalore the Ultimate in single combat, one lightly armored Jedi with a lightsaber against a hulking figure in full battle armor, wielding a beskad nearly as big as his body.

Though Revan’s face was hidden behind his mask, as it always seemed to be of late, his smirk was audible through the worn and dented metal. “Malak,” he warned, “You always lacked  _ finesse _ .”

Still on the defensive, Malak drew upon his mounting frustration as he continued to fend off Revan, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to keep his form up while still fending off stabs and slashes that seemed to come from high and low all at once. Suddenly a burning agony overtook his left side as his master's lightsaber cut through his breastplate and muscle, carving deep enough to wound but not to kill.

Revan lept back in the next moment, twirling his weapon around him with a flourish. He was  _ toying _ with Malak now, his voice lowering to a cruel hiss even through his modulator. “You only see the world in broad strokes and brute strength.” He charged forward again, this time cutting into his opponent’s right thigh. “If anything, it’s  _ you _ who lacks _ imagination. _ ”

Embarrassment burned hot along Malak’s neck, coloring his unnaturally pale skin a vivid shade of scarlet as he bared his teeth with a roar of indignation. “You  _ fool _ ,” he shouted, spittle punctuating his words as he swung his lightsaber through the air with raw strength, “Your taunts mean  _ nothing _ if you don’t have the stomach to strike me down!”

For the blink of an eye Revan grew oddly still, his ‘saber poised for a strike but held in place, hovering in the air. His voice took on a strange sense of calm as he admitted, "True." Then he surged forward, the tip of his blade aimed at Malak's face in what should have been a killing blow. But at the last minute, the master pivoted on the ball of one foot, turning his lightsaber so that the plasma edge carved an almost delicate swath between his pupil's lips, cutting downward in a flash of crimson light.

The effect was instantaneous and Malak collapsed to the ground with a guttural cry of sheer torment, his pain flooding the Force as his lightsaber hilt tumbled to the floor with a metallic clatter. Both hands moved to grasp the gruesome injury that now bisected his face, the wound already cauterized by the heat of Revan’s weapon. But the grizzly proof of the punishment lay on the ground near where Malak fell, his tongue and lower jaw glistening as they sizzled from the plasma strike, completely separate from the rest of his body.

Looking on with a silence that sharply contrasted his apprentice’s screams of agony, Reven’s mood was unreadable aside from the faint shudder that passed through his shoulders, sending a shimmer of movement down the dark material of his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, he powered down his lightsaber and returned it to his belt before turning his back on the scene that he had created.

Not deigning to grace any of the stunned onlookers with so much as a glance, the Dark Lord called out, “Have him treated and cleaned up. And let this be a lesson to anyone _else_ who feels that I’ve gone _soft_.”

The sharp thud of Revan’s boots was drowned out by the clatter of other footfalls as various Sith soldiers rushed to carry out their Lord’s orders and assist their fallen commander. Their shock and fear were a palpable taint in the Force, though none of the individuals present were sensitive enough to feel it. If any of the other soldiers had been able to sense the Force, they would have noticed that the cold, violent pain that bled out was not solely Malak’s. Much of it seeped heavy and thick from Revan as he strode away from his fallen friend.

It was by design that nobody else was in the medical bay late that night as a single figure slipped into the sterile room, the hood of a simple brown cloak casting his bare face in shadow. The air felt oddly cool against his cheeks, his skin now accustomed to a protective metal casing. Still, his true countenance was as good a disguise as any.

Malak was lying in a hospital bed, the remains of his lower face packed in kolto and his eyes closed in a medically induced slumber. As Revan approached his friend’s bedside, he probed his feelings for any signs of remorse as he looked down at the injury he had caused. His knuckles carefully brushed the thick layer of bandages swaddling the other man’s ruined mouth, his touch feather-light to avoid disturbing the artificial rest. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any sense of regret for ruining the lips that he had kissed a hundred times in his life, or the mouth that had whispered sweet reassurances at his lowest points.

No, Revan was only filled with a cold sense of justification. And that, perhaps, was the moment that he knew he had fallen.

Still, the faintest pinprick of affection bloomed deep within his chest as he stroked his hands over the pale tattoos that marked his friend’s smooth scalp, his fingers having long since memorized the lines of the design. It was without resentment that he bent closer and pressed a lingering kiss to the curve of Malak’s forehead, the pressure muffling his words as he quietly breathed,  _ ‘I still love you,’  _ into the other man’s skin.

\+   +   +

Malak was still a young man when Revan struck him down.

“You will forever stand alone.” Even though his vocal range was limited by his missing jaw, a note of irony still managed to enter Malak’s voice as he peered up at the redeemed Dark Lord.

Revan, reborn and yet very much  _ himself _ despite everything that the Jedi Council tried to erase, shook his head as he clutched the dying figure gathered in his lap. “Idiot,” he hissed, face bare aside from three days’ worth of stubble and the distinct pinch of sorrow, “You could have…  _ should have _ stood with me.”

A fresh note of remorse echoed through the Force around them. “I tried.”

“You tried to  _ kill me _ ,” Revan clarified, his lips twisting into a frown as his fingers affectionately touched the cool line between flesh and prosthetic.

Malak blinked slowly, his eyes clouded with pain but so very,  _ very _ blue. “...I failed.”

“I noticed.” Tone sardonic, Revan’s features were caught between regret and the faintest shadow of mirth.

“And in the end you have… you have the galaxy,” Malak coughed, his breath flowing forth in pained mechanical bursts. “And I… I’m a failure. I’m nothing.”

“No.” Unadulterated conviction laced Revan’s words, and for a moment the emotion caught thick and harsh in his throat. Swallowing hard, the rest spilled forth in a rush of raw honesty. “You were a hero and a savior… and then a villain. You were my best friend and the greatest enemy I’ll ever face.”

“Ha.” There was a metallic tinkle of sarcasm in Malak’s voice. “You make it sound like I’ve been  _ everything _ .”

“You certainly lead an interesting life,” Revan conceded, amusement flickering over his face before he quickly sobered. Staring down at his friend, he licked his lips nervously before admitting, “And I think that at times, through all of it, you were  _ my _ everything.”

“I shouldn’t have been. Sometimes…” Malak trailed off, a grimace of discomfort furrowing his brow. “Sometimes I’m not even sure how this all happened. How we became so… entangled.” The last word was stammered and uncertain, a thoroughly inadequate expression of everything they had been to one another.

Revan was silent for several long moments before muttering, “I’m not sure either.” His gaze became distant as he recalled an afternoon long past, filled with summer sunshine and secret kisses. “In fact, I think I told you a long time ago that you didn’t even have to  _ like _ me.”

“I remember.” Fondness crinkled the corners of Malak’s eyes. “It’s odd… Even in the moments when I was filled with hatred and resentment, I  _ always _ liked you.”

“But even if you hated me,” Revan mused quietly, “You always felt  _ something _ for me. That’s better than indifference.”

Though pain colored his every breath, Malak seemed exasperated as he stated, “I don’t think anyone could ever be  _ indifferent _ towards you.”

The proclamation caused them to lapse into another bout of thoughtful silence, the air stilling around them aside from the raspy wheezes of Malak’s increasingly labored breathing. His vocabulator did nothing to hide the agonized gasps that escaped his lungs as the fatal wounds carved into his chest gaped wetly at even the slightest movement. There was a dull, sickening squelch from somewhere within his abdomen as he reached his hand up, broad palm carefully cupping his friend’s chin despite the obvious ache it caused him. He inhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring with the effort.

“Do you…” Malak began, the words stilted as a cold burst of terror surrounded him. “Do you think that after everything I can still become one with the Force? That I can be... more than this  _ darkness _ that’s closing in?”

Revan’s response was instantaneous. “Of  _ course _ I do.”

“I’m not so sure.” Doubt was etched across Malak’s features, the emotion shimmering around him in a chilled haze. “You’ve always had so much more confidence than me…”

“Shh,” Revan murmured as sorrow pooled in his dark eyes. His lips twisted wryly as he soothingly whispered, “There is no emotion. There is peace.”

It was a few halting seconds before the next words of the code were uttered, spoken with surprising surety. “There is no ignorance. There is... knowledge.”

“There is no passion. There is…” Revan faltered here, emotion swelling in his tone as he choked out, “There is serenity.”

“No…” Shaking his head, Malak corrected his friend. “There  _ was _ passion. I… I  _ always _ loved you.”

At first, all Revan could do was nod, moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. "We always loved  _ each other _ .”

With that admission, an expression of relief spread over Malak’s countenance and his shoulders sagged as though a weight had been lifted from them. His fingers gently brushed away the crystalline lines of tears that were staining his friend’s cheeks before his arm collapsed, his great strength finally leaving him. His body seized, though pain no longer clung to his being. All of his emotions seemed to evaporate, released into the Force as he breathed out, “There is… no death.”

The brilliant, almost radiant beam of energy that erupted as life left the body cradled in his arms blazed through Revan, the sensation temporarily igniting him without any of the heat. The sobs that wracked his chest sounded foreign to his own ears as he stared down at the form of the person who had, throughout their lives, collided with his own strange orbit an innumerable amount of times. Hand shaking, his fingertip reverently brushed against the other man’s eyelids as he closed those blue,  _ blue _ eyes for the last time.

The words that tumbled from Revan’s lips were a reassurance to himself, a promise that this was not the end. “There is the  _ Force _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!
> 
> 1\. The title is from the song 'Space Oddity' by David Bowie.
> 
> 2\. I avoided giving Revan a name other than "Revan" since I was afraid that would make things unnecessarily complicated (and I am bad at making up Star Wars names). However, Alek/Malak doesn't verbally call him "Revan" until after the start of the Mandalorian Wars.
> 
> 3\. I tend to think of Revan and Malak as younger than Revan's canonical age (as of the 'Revan' novel) due to various KOTOR dialogue points. I've kept their ages vague past childhood but in my mind, they're in their mid-20's during the Mandalorian Wars and their early 30's during the final battle on the Star Forge.
> 
> 4\. For anyone waiting for the next NLWS chapter - I'm working on it. (Really!) That being said, I may be posting a few non-NLWS things before the next chapter is up. Sorry!
> 
> Follow me on Twitter - Ergo_Maria


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